Memories are Made of This
by Daedalus30185
Summary: Carolina has been having a string of bad dreams. All about the same day. Rated T for brief, minor language (blame Chruch).


**Author's Note:**So I don't know if everyone on the block was chopping onions while I wrote this or that it had something to do with the fact that I had York's holo-journal from season 10 on repeat (putting money on the former), but I balled my eyes while I wrote this.

_o/' _= music note

* * *

"Carolina..." York said stepping out of the shadows. His armor was just as well shined as the day it had been issued to him and the other members of Project Freelancer. But the way he carried himself in the nearly one ton of armor spoke volumes about what he and the rest of the project had been through. "Let's not do this. It doesn't have to be this way." He pleaded.

"What are you doing here? Why are you helping _her_?" it was the break-in Tex orchestrated years earlier. It was _always_ this day. Tex had somehow turned York and North against her. And the rest of Project Freelancer At least, that's what she thought at the time.

"It's not _about_ her. Come on. I'm trying to do the right thing here. You should too."

"I _am_ doing the right thing; I'm not _deserting_." There was a brief pause before Carolina continued. The insinuation that she wasn't on the winning side? "She just wants your AI York. She already went after Wyoming."

"Is that what they told you?" the information had been widely circulated that Tex had not only gone rogue, but psychotic. According to Gamma, Tex had nearly beaten Wyoming senseless trying to get him. To her knowledge, everyone had been informed about it save for Wash who was unconscious at the time.

"I'm going to stop her. I _have_ to." Tex had taken the one thing she needed more than anything, something she hadn't had for a _long_ time: His respect. His love. That's what she had thought. In actuality, she was nothing more than a tool for him. They all were.

"You don't have to prove anything." he said as he put the shotgun, his signature weapon on his back.

"Come on." he took a step closer to her. "Let's leave this place. We can get those damned things out of your head! You can trust me." There was something about how he said she could trust him, that it wasn't him, North and Tex, but him specifically. Her jealousy blinded her to it though. It had blinded her to a lot of things those last weeks. Ever since she got Eta and Iota. The two had been pushing her further and further from the other Freelancers.

"Maybe," she raised one of the stolen Covenant plasma rifles to his gold tinted visor. She could see the energy cackling in the reflection. "but you can't trust me."

His head slunk to the side. It wasn't the answer he was hoping for she knew, but this couldn't have ended any other way. It _always_ ended this way. He knocked one of the plasma rifles away, then the other. But after that it was a losing battle. She gave a double kick to him causing him to lose his balance. The momentum pushed her back towards the wall. Running back down briefly to catch up to the elevator she rolled in close to him. He had managed to block or deflect most of her strikes but a hit to the center of his chest armor knocking his magnetized boots off the deck plate.

But this is where it went wrong. Every. Single. Time.

"Carolina..." he said, just like when he stepped out of the shadows. She had long since figured out, consciously anyways, what he was going to say.

She hears the loud crack of a sniper rifle. It takes a moment before his gold visor explodes on the left side, the one-way reflective slivers flying in a hundred different directions.

"So sorry mate," A British voice behind her says. Wyoming. "Was he one of yours?" York's body begins to drift back into the shadow as his body still spins in a twisted spiral. But Wyoming's voice isn't the only thing she hears; the primal growl of Mai... of the Meta.

Delta tried, briefly, to give a warning to her before being silenced once York's body had been enveloped.

The gold faced monster that had once been her friend stepped out in York's place, holographic images of the AI he collected: Sigma, the original and puppet master of the group. Gamma who lied, covering up what really happened the first time. Theta, the poor guy was probably scared to death when he attacked North. And now Delta. Carolina could almost feel the glare from him. Then more started cycling through. Omega, Tex, then her companions. Everyone who had died because she put her pride above everything else. Because she wanted to be number one in _his_ eyes again.

The Meta grabbed her by the throat and lifted her up. They were now standing over the snowy cliff. In dream-logic, jumps like that always made sense at the time. He tossed her helmet off her head and onto the ground. He then dove his hand into the base of her skull and tore out Eta and Iota. They were almost elated at this.

"We are the Meta." The AI said in unison. "And we will _always_ find you Agent Carolina." The hulking Freelancer then threw her off the cliff.

* * *

"Hey hey hey, easy there." Epsilon said as Carolina shot up, her scarlet red hair flying with her. As time went on she looked a little more dishevelled each day. She didn't sleep with the helmet on; not unless it she slept against a wall. It was just too uncomfortable. "Your vitals were all over the place. Mostly red-line which is, ya know, bad."

"I'm fine." Carolina said a little too quickly.

"Yeah we both know that's bullshit." the AI shot back.

"You had that dream again didn't you?" there was a heavy note of concern in his voice this time.

"...yes." She reluctantly admitted. There really wasn't much point in lying. He was literally inside her head.

"It's been six days straight. You need to talk about it." it was amazing. After all they had been through, he somehow managed to come to terms with what happened to him. But her? She had been more torn apart in the last week than the entirety of the years she hunted for revenge.

It had been six days since they left the Blood Gulch group behind in the canyon. Six days since the dreams had begun.

She hesitated, wondering what she could say. Opening up just meant it was easier for someone to take a shot at you. "Did he..." her voice trailed off.

Because of the memories he had gotten from Delta, he knew the question she couldn't ask was one of two possibilities. Either it was "did he love me" or "did he hate me". Epsilon was struggling with giving her an answer.

"Do you really want an answer?" he finally asked.

"No." tears were welling up in her eyes. If he didn't tell her, she could at least pretend so it was less painful. But either way she thought about it, it felt like her heart had just gone for a mile run through a thorn bush.

"Can I... see his face?" she knew he could project himself next to her even when she was out of her armor.

"You know, it's not healthy to keep these things bottled up. I mean Delta is-" the hologram cut himself off. He didn't even think about how mentioning Delta could affect her. It was a stupid mistake and he knew it.

"Epsilon?" she said. It took him a few cycles to realize that he hadn't said anything for nearly three seconds. For an AI, that might as well have been an eternity. "Church, are you there?"

"Um, yeah. Sorry." he said.

"It's just..." there wasn't a way for him to say this delicately. "Look sister, the last time someone in this family chased after a memory I ended up looking like a personality kaleidoscope."

That got a slight chuckle out of her. Something she hadn't done for years.

"I just want..." she corrected herself. "I _need_ to say goodbye. Even if it's just to a picture."

Epsilon was one of the few who could understand her pain. After all, he had gone through it what? Four times by his count.

"Okay." the image of the small cobalt-armored soldier disappeared, replacing it with a man in his 30's, brown hair sticking up in the front. Likely an after-effect of the use of so much hair gel in his youth. His left eye though didn't hold the scar he earned, or rather had been given, during the training round where Wyoming and Maine nearly blew him up. He had joked a few times that the scar made him more ruggedly good looking. Though she wouldn't have ever let him hear it for fear of massively boosting his ego, she agreed.

"York... I-" as much as she wanted to, she just couldn't do it. She couldn't say goodbye to him. Tears were welling up in her eyes. She wiped them away, maintaining her tough girl appearance and tried again.

"I wa-" she just couldn't do it, so she settled.

"I'm sorry, York." She held a hand to the edge of the still image. "I'm so, _so_ sorry York." She wiped the tears away again.

"Church?" her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Yeah. I'm still here." the miniature "soldier" appeared beside York's full-sized face. "Ya know, he really _did_ look better with that scar."

"Can you do one more thing? Just one."

"Of course." he knew she was trying to get over it in her own way. It would be painful. Just like how he had let Texas... let Allison go. Twice.

"There was a song. One he used to hum while we were in the Pelican en route to a mission. I, I can't remember what it is." she could remember part of the tune, just not the song itself.

"I think I know which one you're talking about." there was something in his voice, almost like it was happy. But why?

She closed her eyes and listened to the song. Just after the voice kicked in she understood.

_o/' No one could be sweeter than my sweetie when I meet her in the morning o/'_

She had her answer. He had practically been screaming it in his own special way.

Epsilon waited for a few minutes after she fell asleep before he turned it off. Just enough to ensure she had sweeter dreams than he had.

"Good night Carolina." he whispered. "Sweet dreams."

He then put himself in standby mode, waiting for her to wake up. Hopefully she'd actually get a good rest for once.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, I purposely made York hum Trocadero's cover of "Carolina in the Morning". Seems like the kinda thing he'd do.


End file.
